


Still Flickering Here

by multilingualism



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Hogwarts, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:48:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24344542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/multilingualism/pseuds/multilingualism
Summary: Hermione was asked to be Ginny's maid of honor in her upcoming wedding to Harry. Since she had broken up with Ron almost a year ago, she will be attending the wedding alone. That is, until they decide that Hermione should attend with the only other single member of the wedding party, Charlie.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Charlie Weasley
Comments: 35
Kudos: 113





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I wrote this during November NaNoWriMo 2019. While it is not currently finished, I don't anticipate it being as long as some of the other stories I've written. Hope you enjoy. 😀

“Hi, Hermione, it’s Ginny! …Obviously. I know you have _calleridee_ or whatever it’s called. Anyway, I was just calling to say that the most wonderful thing has happened! Harry proposed. Can you believe it? Well, I can because I’ve had a sense for sometime but I’m sure it’s news for you. Anyway, how are you? Call me back when you can. I know you’re busy but it’s important. Um, bye!”

The recording ended with a click. Hermione had just come home from a brutal day of work. She looked at her watch. It was too late to call Ginny back now. It would have to wait for the weekend.

* * *

“You know what they say?”

“No, mum, what do they say?” Hermione said over a cup of coffee at her parents’ dining room table.

“Always a bridesmaid, never a bride.”

Her mother was referring to the fact that once Hermione had called her back, Ginny had asked Hermione to be her maid of honor in the upcoming wedding. Hermione had agreed without hesitation, but only because she was at work and in a hurry and distracted.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hermione asked defensively. “I was on my way to becoming a bride myself.”

“Yes, well, will that ever happen again?”

“What? Get married? I don’t know. Not really my top concerns at the moment, if I’m being honest.”

“And what are your top concerns?”

At the moment? Hermione thought. Getting out of this conversation as quickly as possible.

“I don’t know,” she responded, not entirely truthfully. She wanted to confide in her mother that her biggest goal was getting through each day but she did not want her mother to worry about her. She did not need her worry; it did not do either of them any good if her mother spent all of her time worrying about her daughter.

“You spend all of your time at work. It’s no wonder you haven’t met anyone.”

“It hasn’t even been that long, mum,” Hermione said, exasperation creeping into her voice. “Can’t I just enjoy being single?”

“You are perfectly entitled to enjoy being single, dear. I just wish you did more stuff socially. When was the last time you had even seen Jenny before she called you?”

“Ginny, mum,” Hermione corrected. Honestly. Having given her daughter a name like Hermione, one would think she would be able to remember a name like Ginny.

“I’m serious, Hermione. You have to stop feeling sorry for yourself. It’s not doing you any good.”

Hermione looked away. Had she not just thought the same thing? Even though she tried very hard to appear like she was in perfect mental health, her mother could see right through her.

But it was not as if Hermione was not trying. And it was not as if Hermione did not desperately want to feel like herself again. Well, whatever “herself” was. She was still not sure if she knew. At first, she had thought the truest version of herself was someone who worked diligently and read prodigiously, but, so far, throwing herself into her work had not been able to cure her lingering blues.

“Alright, mum,” Hermione said, straightening up in her chair. “You’re right.” Her mother smiled. She knew every parent loved to hear that. “I’ll try harder socially.”

“That’s all you have to do, dear. Just give it a try. What’s the worst that can happen?”

* * *

Hermione arrived at Number 12 Grimmauld Place with her tote bag and sense of mounting dread. Although the place had been spruced up quite a bit these past couple years, memories from when they had all lived there permeated there like the decades-old dust that seemed to cling the building even after repeated scrubbings.

Hermione did not need to knock since the wards had been put up by her and she doubted that anyone had bothered to change them, but she knocked anyway so she had time to collect her bearings.

Ginny, always full of boundless energy, sprung open the door and pulled Hermione into a rib-crushing hug. “Oh, Mione, I missed you so much.” Hermione tried to get out a “me too” but was unable thanks to the woman currently threatening to squeeze all of the air from her lungs. “Everybody is inside,” she said, pulling Hermione by the hand into the dimly lit house.

The memories were not the only reason Hermione was reluctant to come to this gathering today. It was the other women in attendance.

Ginny continued to pull Hermione into the living room. When she had still lived there, it had been her study more or less. She would spend sleepy Sundays in there, reading to her heart’s content. Those were the days. What she would not give to go back to that state of blissful ignorance.

“Of course you all know Hermione,” Ginny said, putting a gentle hand on Hermione’s lower back, as if offering her to the other women in the room.

At first Hermione did not look at their faces but instead the sofas they were sitting on. She had reupholstered them herself. The fabric was the same.

“Hello, Hermione,” a dreamy voice said from across the room. Hermione looked up but she would know that voice from anywhere—Luna Lovegood.

Before inviting her, Ginny had told her over the phone who would be in attendance and thus who would be among her bridal party. Now Hermione looked at them all in turn. Luna, one of Ginny’s oldest friends, was an obvious choice.

Next to Luna Angelina Johnson—well, Weasley—was sat. Hermione supposed that since Hermione had been at George and Angelina’s wedding she should know better. Not only was Angelina Ginny’s sister-in-law, she was also her teammate on the Holyhead Harpies.

On the wingback chair to the right of Angelina and Luna, the one closest to the books that Hermione had loved so much, is Fleur. Ginny had not wanted her to be in the bridal party since she still harbored some animosity towards her sister-in-law but Mrs. Weasley had insisted. Fleur, for her part, smiled when her eyes landed on Hermione. However, it was hard for Hermione to harbor any animosity towards her when Fleur had been kind enough to help her with French when Hermione had desperately wanted to learn the language one summer.

On the piano bench in front of the window sat Audrey, Percy’s new wife, the last of Ginny’s sisters-in-law. Hermione worked at the ministry with Percy and Audrey, but not closely with either of them, so she knew very little about her. But based on her horn-rimmed glasses and stuffy expression, she could tell that she and Percy were probably a match made in heaven.

That left the woman that Hermione had wanted to see the least. Someone she had wanted to see even less than the house itself—Lavender Brown. Lavender was not nor ever had been close to Ginny but since Mrs. Weasley had insisted that the entire Weasley clan be included in this wedding, that meant that Lavender had to be invited too, since—Hermione could barely believe this herself—she was dating Ron.

Ginny had asked Hermione if she would be okay with this but Hermione had interpreted this to be more of a demand than a request. As Ginny and Harry’s best friend, Hermione of course would have a place at the wedding; but as a now former member of the Weasley family, her position was tenuous in Mrs. Weasley’s eyes. Ginny had confessed to Hermione that in no uncertain terms would Mrs. Weasley allow Ginny to bar Lavender from coming, since it would surely upset Ron and Mrs. Weasley was desperate to have everyone there. She had not lost one son just to lose another.

Hermione sighed. She knew this could not have been fun or easy for Ginny either. This is why you don’t date friends, she thought ruefully. It can only end badly.

_“Hello, Mione,” his voice said through the machine. He was still not used to using a telephone and he was shouting a bit. “I’m sorry for what I said.” Pause. “But can we meet somewhere to talk? It’s important and I don’t want to say it over the phone. Alright. Bye.”_

How many times had Hermione played that message over in her head after she had agreed to meet him in the park? They had just had another fight and Hermione was living with her parents. She had only agreed because she had thought, based on his apology on the phone, that he would be begging her to come back. But no. That call was the beginning of the end.

He had broken up with her. How long ago had that been? And now he was with Lavender. He had wasted no time in getting with someone else. Like she had not mattered at all. Like they had not mattered at all.

“Alright, now that we’re all here. The fun can begin,” Ginny said.

Hermione looked at Lavender again who was giving her a wolfish grin. Sure, Hermione thought, fun


	2. Chapter 2

All the years that Hermione had known Ginny, she had never thought of her as one for entertaining, but Ginny had been insistent that things be done in just the right way. Hermione wanted to call her a bridezilla but that was a rather uncharitable view of her friend. How many times would Ginny get married? Only once—at least, in theory—and she deserved for it to be perfect.

“You’re probably wondering why I’ve gathered you all here today,” Ginny began dramatically. That was the Ginny she knew. “Well, if you must know… it is to have fun and make merriment. Lavender suggested we get together to have wine and I thought, ‘who am I to argue?’”

Everyone laughed—except for Hermione. That was the Ginny that Hermione thought she knew. She was listening to Lavender’s advice? Why? Ginny had told Hermione that she had not even wanted to invite Lavender and had only done so because her mother had twisted her arm. What, were they becoming friends or something?

Ginny summoned bottles of champagne from the other room followed by the delicate procession of glasses and then something Hermione had not expected to see—orange juice. This was definitely Lavender’s doing. She had never known Ginny to be a daydrinker.

Lavender also helped Ginny by prefilling all of the glasses halfway with orange juice who topped it off with champagne. As she watched Ginny hand them out and was given one herself, she noticed that Fleur had not yet been served. Until she watched Lavender fill the remaining glass with straight orange juice. Oh, so Lavender knew Fleur was pregnant and Hermione didn’t?

“A toast,” Lavender said, interrupting Hermione’s spiraling, “to Ginny and Harry. May they spend their days together in bliss… And also their nights.” That also earned a giggle from the room but Hermione just wanted to gag. She hated thinking of her friends in such a way.

“Here, here,” said Audrey, who looked distinctly less pinched. Oh, great, even Miss Sourpuss was having a good time while Hermione sulked, nursing her mimosa like she depended on it.

“Go out and be social,” her mother had said. “What’s the worst that could happen?” Well, Hermione was not sure but this certainly seemed like the worst. Being forced into a house full of unhappy memories and finding out you’ve been replaced by your ex’s new girlfriend. And if that was not actually the worst, it was getting there.

_It was an overcast day and Hermione was curled up on the couch reading a romance novel. Ron and Harry were at the ministry late, training to become aurors. Hermione had spent the whole day on that couch. It was the summer immediately following the war and she was still deep in her grief. Initially she had tried to fill her time cleaning the house but eventually it became too hard to get up._

_She turned over on the couch to look at the clock. Should they not have been home by now? Finally she heard the door open and footsteps in the foyer. She got up to greet Ron—they had only just begun dating—but all she saw was Harry who had a pained look on his face._

_“Where’s Ron?” she had asked._

“Hello, Hermione,” a voice said dreamily beside her.

“Hi, Luna,” Hermione said.

“I would not be happy if I were you either,” she said simply.

“Oh, no, you’re mistaken, Luna. I am very happy. I am happy for Harry and Ginny.”

“To be honest, I’d always thought you would have ended up with Harry.”

Hermione nearly spat into her glass but luckily for her it seemed like everyone else was absorbed in their own conversations. The older Weasley wives were talking and Lavender and Ginny were laughing about something. Hermione felt her stomach flip.

“What would make you say that?” To be honest, Hermione had always considered Harry more of a brother but she was in the mood to hear something crazy from Luna. Anything to distract her from her current misery.

Luna shrugged. “Just a feeling I had.”

Lavender brought out a cheese and meat plate which Hermione dug into greedily. She had been too nervous to eat breakfast but when she saw the look that other women were giving her, she backed off a bit.

“Fleur!” she heard Audrey say. “Should you be eating soft cheese in your condition?”

“What? I am French.”

“So what is _this_ exactly?” she heard Angelina ask Lavender.

“Ginny wanted an engagement party, wanted to invite everyone, but well, you know…”

Hermione put a cracker piled with gouda into her mouth and walked over to Luna who was now talking to Ginny. She knew that they were talking about _her_ , that she was the reason they could not hold a big engagement party. She was an embarrassment. A nuisance. Ruiner of fun. This really could not get any worse, could it?

“What’s the latest gossip?” Hermione said to her friends, trying to pretend like everything was alright and that her heart was not currently being broken in two but sounding so utterly unlike herself in the moment.

“Well, Luna was just telling me that she has an exciting work trip coming up,” Ginny said. This was not exactly gossip but she probably was wondering why Hermione was asking about gossip in the first place.

“Yes, the ministry has agreed to fund an exploratory trip to look for a crumple-horned snorkack”

“Oh,” said Hermione, feigning interest. She could not imagine anyone would agree to pay for that.

“I told them that it would be great publicity if we were finally able to find one.”

“That’s wonderful. I wish you all of the luck,” Hermione said, raising her empty glass.

“I must admit it is not all sunshine and rainbows. Neville is pressuring me to go on the trip with him for potential herbological discoveries but I don’t know if we’re ready for that kind of commitment.”

“No!” Ginny and Hermione both said. 

“You two are so cute together. How could you not be?” Ginny added.

“Like most people,” Luna began, “I’m not sure Neville is entirely certain about the existence of the CHK—as I am fond of calling it—and I don’t know if I can stand spending a long trip with him if he’s going to be doubting me the entire time.”

Hermione thought that Luna might have a point. She would hate to have a significant other doubt her especially when that something was her passion. But Ginny touched Luna on the shoulder, “I’m sure whatever happens, that the two of you can weather it.”

Luna, never one to hide her feelings, smiled weakly. Hermione could not help but wonder why Ginny had said that. Luna’s concerns sounded legitimate. Maybe she could not stand their friend group fracturing any further and would do anything to hold it together, even by force.

“Alright, ladies, gather round,” Lavender said, clinking on her half-empty champagne flute. “Ginny and I,” Hermione mentally gagged, “thought now would be a good time to brainstorm some fun activities for us to do. So we can become even closer.”

What was this nonsense? The wedding was only one day—two day tops! They did not need to get to know each other. Was this all a sick, twisted attempt by Lavender to rub Hermione’s face in her happiness?

“I thought we could start by brainstorming bridesmaids colors.”

“Doesn’t Ginny need a color scheme first before we pick dresses?”

Ginny shrugged. “If you give good ideas, I might be convinced.”

“Any ideas?” Lavender said. She had produced a large notebook on an easel and had an uncapped magic marker in her hand. But she was met with silence from the women, “Alright I’ll start: lavender,” she said with a wicked smile. Her joke elicited both groans and laughs.

“Turquoise,” said Luna.

“Great idea,” Lavender said, writing it down on the notebook.

“Mauve,” said Fleur.

“Mint,” said Angelina.

“Ecru,” said Audrey.

All eyes fell on Hermione who had yet to produce her own color. “Puce,” she said. Hermione was not entirely sure what shade that was but it reminded her of what she wanted to do most right now.

Despite her half-joke of an answer, Lavender still wrote it down and praised her appropriately. “That’s like a burgundy-maroon shade, right?” she asked when she had finished writing it down.

“Uh, yes,” Hermione said. She had always thought it sounded like chartreuse so that meant it was an ugly green color but what did she know? She was hardly an expert on colors as Lavender was. Lavender was the model of femininity that Hermione could never hope to achieve.

“Alright,” Lavender said, looking at the list. “I am seeing almost every color of the rainbow here. So, what if we—feel free to shoot me down if you think this is crazy—but what if all wore a different color of the rainbow? There are six of us.”

Hermione thought this was a monumentally stupid idea. Whoever heard of everyone wearing different colors?

But she heard murmurings of assent from all around her. Alright, she thought, well it was not her wedding.

Lavender began writing the names of the colors on the notebook followed by colons, presumably to write the bridesmaid associated with that color.

“I think I will be purple, because… of course. And Luna, do you mind being orange? You’re the only one whose date won’t have red hair.”

Luna nodded but added, “If I can wear yellow and have blonde hair, I don’t see why redheads can’t wear orange.”

Hermione did not know why she herself had not been given orange—not that she particularly liked the color—but there was no need to worry about the color not suiting her date’s hair.

“Red will also be tricky then…” Lavender said, supporting her right elbow in her left hand and tapping the marker on her face.

“I can wear red. It won’t clash with my date’s hair.”

“ _You_ have a date?” Lavender asked. Was she mocking her?

“No, that’s the thing I won’t have one.” Did she really have to spell it out? Wasn’t it enough for Lavender to be dating Ron? Why did Hermione have to continue to suffer?”

“Oh? Ginny did not tell you? Charlie is going to be your date for the wedding.”

Charlie? She hardly knew him. He spent most of his time in Romania and was very rarely seen at the Burrow. And he was her date? She hadn’t agreed to this. Hermione looked to Ginny for an explanation.

“Not date- _date_ , Mione. He’s just going to stand opposite you at the altar for the sake of symmetry.”

Alright, Hermione thought. So why would Lavender say he was her date? Did she want her paired off with Charlie so that Hermione would not steal her man? How very juvenile. There was no danger of that.

“I will wear red since Bill is the most handsome brother. It does not matter what color he wears; he looks excellent in everything,” Fleur said, bringing the conversation back on topic.

“Excellent,” Lavender said. “Although I agree to disagree on the most handsome brother part.”

If Hermione did not think she was going to retch before, she certainly thought she was going to now.

“I’ll take yellow,” Angelina said.

“And I’ll take blue,” Audrey said.

“Great, that leaves Hermione with green. Is that cool with you, Hermione?” Lavender asked, a wide smile spreading across her face, as if she was daring Hermione to fight her on that decision.

“No, it’s perfect. I love green,” Hermione said.

“It will compliment your brown hair and brown eyes perfectly.”

Hermione suppressed the urge to stick out her tongue at the offending woman. Fuck off. She could not wait to go home and tell her mother just how wrong she had been. It was if she was being punished for a crime that she did not know she had a committed and whose punishment was specifically crafted to torture her in the cruelest way possible. Perhaps it was for the hubris of thinking she could ever be happy ever again.


	3. Chapter 3

Another busy day, another missed opportunity for Hermione to get lunch. She was running to the ministry canteen to get a small bite to eat. It was not the tastiest food in the world but it would suffice in a pinch, especially since she had been too busy to get breakfast and was ravenous at this point. She was paying for her sandwich when she heard a voice behind her call her name.

“Harry?” she said when she spun around to see her oldest friend. “What are you doing here?”

“I work here,” Harry said with a smile.

“Yes, but I thought you told me you didn’t trust anything they made here and that you would prefer to risk it at a fast food place.”

“Okay, well, I may have said that, but you don’t have to broadcast it to the world.”

She looked at her friend. “I suppose congratulations are in order.”

“Oh, yes, for the engagement. I mean… it was inevitable.”

“Doesn’t make it any less exciting!” Hermione said. She knew she should be excited for her friends but she could not bring herself to be excited for any part of it. If she wasn’t preparing for the wedding with the other bridesmaids and her ex’s new girlfriend, she was being excluded from other parties. Not to mention she would have to see him at the ceremony.

“How are your maid of honor duties?”

Hermione looked around, evidently searching for the correct answer to that question. “They’re great. I am honored to have been chosen.”

“Ginny knew you would have been a good choice because you’ve got experience.”

Hermione tried not to wince. She supposed that was one way of putting it. She did have experience, albeit incomplete experience.

“Yes, and I am more than happy to help with anything.”

“Thanks, Mione. I knew we could count on you.”

 _Could you though?_ Hermione thought. _Could you_ actually _though?_ She did not feel like someone who could be counted on. She felt unmoored and anyone who tied their boat to her would also be pulled off course and float away to oblivion or dragged down with her.

“Hey, would you want to get coffee sometime?”

“With me?”

“Yeah, I miss you silly. I feel like we haven’t talked in forever.”

Hermione smiled weakly. “Of course, just send me an interdepartmental memo.”

“What about on a weekend?”

“That works too.”

They waved goodbye and Hermione finished paying for her food. She trudged over to the elevator, her cache in hand and pushed the number of her destination.

Hermione had joined the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures despite having been given an invitation by the minister himself to work for him directly. But Hermione had wanted to make a difference and follow her dreams.

But four years on the job and she was still no closer to solving the world’s problems. Mostly her job consisted of making compromises, compromises that she was sure were not helping anyone but the already enfranchised. Freeing house elves was an unpopular topic, even among her coworkers, so she really had to fight tooth and nail to put legislation forward. Even then, she did spend most of her time on other issues, so most of what she did was not even house elf related.

But as her mother was kind enough to point out, it was not as if she had anything else to do anyway. All she had was her job. But after he had called off the engagement, she was forced to move back in with her parents. Living in your childhood bedroom did not exactly inspire her to want to bring dates home. Not that she was getting any anyway. She suspected Tom in accounting might have had a thing for her, but that was mostly because he was one of the few people who said good morning to her. And saying good morning was hardly a declaration of love.

She also did not expect people to fall at her feet over her anyway. She was average-looking and if she admitted it, kind of boring. Who would want to date a woman whose hobbies were reading and working? Hermione was quite convinced she was doomed to stay single for the rest of her life.

But maybe she should not think it was doom. She did not have to deal with drama like whatever Neville and Luna were currently going through. That was a plus.

* * *

It was Saturday when Hermione got an invitation from Harry to have coffee at a cute little coffee shop that they had frequented when they all lived at Number Twelve. She did not think Harry had done this intentionally but it stung nevertheless. How often had the three of them come there on their days off to shoot the breeze and talk about their dreams. Then again, it would always get painfully awkward when Harry would start talking about how many kids he wanted and Ron would give her a look that felt like a punch in the gut. Still, what she would not give to go back to those simple days.

“Over here, Mione,” Harry said from the back of the cafe.

Hermione shuffled through the tables full of people chatting and laughing to get to Harry. He had apparently already ordered for her because there was a second drink by his own.

“I hope you still like lattes,” he said.

“Yes,” she said. She did not tell him that she had switched to espressos and would probably find the latte too milky for her taste, but she sipped at it appreciatively nevertheless.

“What’s new with you? I’m sorry I didn’t get to ask you that last time I saw you.”

“No, it’s fine. You are something much more exciting to talk about anyway. I wouldn’t want to steal your thunder. Besides, I have come to the conclusion that I am supremely boring. What would I tell you anyway? That I’ve only been working? No, I would much rather hear about the exciting life you’ve been leading.”

Harry took a sip from his latte and got foam on his mustache. Ginny had confided in Hermione that she found his facial hair gross but Hermione thought it made him look respectable and distinguished.

“I wouldn’t say that, Mione. You’re not boring. You’ve just been going through a tough time.” That was one way of putting it, Hermione thought. A rough time that seemed to be stretching into the rest of all time, in pepertuity. “If I know anything about my Hermione, she’ll come out on top.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she said, probably sounding not at all convincing. It was not as if she did not want to be “my Hermione,” the Hermione Granger of his memories, but when she felt so empty all of the time, how was she supposed to be?

“I’m sorry, by the way, about the Lavender situation. It couldn’t be helped. Mrs. Weasley—”

“I know. You don’t have to apologize.” Hermione sighed. “It is what it is.”

“You know I wanted it to be you,” he said, his look laden with meaning.

“What can we do though, Harry? People change, they move apart. Trying to fight that is fruitless.” Hermione wished she had actually believed what she was saying, but deep down she knew she had wanted it to be her too. “I made my choice and he made his. We can only hope for the best in the end.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that I wanted you to be my sister.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry! We don’t need to be legally related to still be like siblings.”

“I did get a little worried for a while there when I didn’t hear from you.”

“Yes, well…” At the time Hermione wasn’t sure if she actually would talk to Harry ever again. When her world was falling apart, she did not know if Harry would choose sides. Looking back, of course Harry would never choose between her and Ron, but even still his proximity to Ron—through work and now marriage—made the distance between them seem even greater.

Harry took her hand. Hermione was shocked by the gesture and forced herself not to pull away. “We’ve been through too much together to let something as insignificant as a failed relationship come between us.” Hermione grimaced. The failed relationship certainly had not felt insignificant to her. “And who knows? Maybe we can all be friends in the end.”

“Yep,” Hermione said, the plosive of the ‘p’ popping loudly. “Maybe we can.”

Maybe Hermione would be amenable to being friends again, but _he_ had said in no uncertain terms that he did not want to see her ever again. His decision to start dating Lavender immediately after the fact was proof of that.

“So, are you seeing anyone right now?”

“Nope,” she said, looking at her drink.

“Well that’s good for Charlie, right?” At her look, Harry added, “Oh, has Ginny not told you?”

“No, I’ve been made aware,” Hermione said with an awkward laugh.

“Great!”

“Yeah, it should be fun to get to know him more. He probably has a lot of exciting stories. Maybe he’ll take me with him back to Romania and I can take care of dragons with him.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Oh, so you may become my sister after all?”

“No, no, I didn’t—I don’t mean it that way.”

“You never know...”


	4. Chapter 4

“Have fun with Jenny today, Hermione!” Hermione’s mum said to Hermione as she was running out the door.

“Ginny,” Hermione corrected.

“Oh, you know what I mean!”

Hermione apparated into the alley beside their favorite restaurant in London. She adjusted her hair and skirt after a messy apparition trip. But when she got to the door to look inside, she saw that Ginny was nowhere to be seen.

But a man at a table near the window was waving at her. She did not recognize him at first and wondered if he was waving at someone else but then she saw the red hair. Charlie Weasley. Why was he here? Ginny had not told her about him coming.

She opened the door and walked to the table. “Hi!” she said. “Uh, what a surprise? Is, uh, Ginny coming?”

“No, she couldn’t make it. So she decided to send me in her place. Is that okay?”

“No, yeah, it’s fine. Good, great even!” Hermione laughed nervously.

“Good! Good! I was worried you would be upset.”

“No. Why would I be upset?” It’s not like she had been tricked into going out to dinner with a man she hardly knew who was also her ex’s brother.

“Okay, so what should I order? Ginny told me you guys used to come here all the time?”

Hermione helped Charlie order and their waiter brought them their drinks. Hermione just got water but Charlie got a coke.

“So, what’s new with you? Why aren’t you in Romania?” Hermione asked, trying to fill the palpable silence.

“Things have been good. I am on sabbatical; that’s why I’m here.”

“Oh, that’s nice! I wish I could have a sabbatical.”

“It is nice,” he said, rather noncommittally. “And how’s work been with you? I think I heard you work at the ministry?”

“Yeah, in the Control of Magical Creatures department.”

“Oh, so we’re connected, in a way?”

“You can say that, yes, but I mostly work with creatures with ‘near-human intelligence,’” she said with air quotes. “I’m sorry I hate that term. And I hate how we regulate these quote-unquote creatures yet we don’t allow them any say in their welfare. Could we not at least have an elf ambassador? Sorry, I should clarify I have a soft spot for elvish welfare.”

Charlie nodded but looked like he was not exactly parsing what she was saying. “You could hire a house elf and then ask them what they think.”

“I suppose I could but I would be worried that they were just trying to make me happy and not actually do what’s best for them.”

“Well, then you are at least trying your best.”

“I can tell myself that but I can only really guess at what’s best for house elves. But… enough about my fruitless endeavors. Tell me about the dragons.”

“Oh, they’re good as always.” He showed her his hand which was covered in white crisscrossing scars. “It can take a lot out of you, literally, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

“And do you still have Norberta?”

Charlie looked confused. “Is that a woman I should know about?” he asked.

“The dragon. A Norwegian ridgeback. Remember, Hagrid hatched her and we wrote to you to come get her?”

“Oh, yes, I do remember her now. We raised her for a bit but sent her on to a research facility in China. Unfortunately we have quite a few Norwegian ridgebacks in Romania but fewer Chinese Fireballs, so we did an exchange. But I believe she’s happy. In fact, I think she has raised many happy clutches of eggs which are being used to repopulate the fjords.”

“Nice to hear the story has a happy ending,” Hermione said. She wondered if Hagrid knew about this. She had been skeptical of that dragon from the start. So it was probably for the best then that she did not work with dragons, despite how much more exciting it was.

They had clearly run out of things to talk about. What was the point of this anyway? They just had to stand opposite each other at the altar; they did not need to be best friends or anything else, for that matter. Unless Ginny and Harry really were trying to set them up. Why? To what end? So she wouldn’t cause problems at the wedding? When had she ever been the one to cause problems?

_Hermione had just finished dancing with Viktor, who despite his build, was quite the elegant dancer. In fact, she, despite her many years of ballet, was the clumsy one. Viktor excused himself to get them some refreshments._

_Hermione saw her friends also sitting down and decided to join them._

_“I didn’t think this would be fun but it is rather fun, isn’t it?”_

_Her friends didn’t respond so she turned to see what had them otherwise occupied. Harry was just staring off into space, his mind far away from the dancers and the music. But Ron—Ron was giving her a look she did not understand at first. He appeared furious, but how did that make sense? Why would he be angry at her? She had not done anything to warrant his furor._

_“I didn’t know we had a traitor in our midst,” he said with enough venom to make Hermione realize that she had been right initially._

_“What?” Hermione said. “What are you talking about?”_

_“You’re fraternizing with the enemy!”_

_Hermione looked to Harry to back her up but he was still deep in his own world. Maybe he had just grown used to their squabbles and it did not faze him anymore._

_“The enemy? Have you forgotten what the Triwizard Tournament is all about? International magical cooperation.”_

_“Magical cooperation? Is that another way to say Viktor had his tongue down your throat?”_

_Fat, hot tears formed in Hermione’s eyes. She did not know if they were from sadness or rage. Ron was supposed to be her friend. He had no right to talk to her that way._

_“Next time there’s an event like this, get the courage to ask me first and not as a last resort.”_

_It was then that Viktor came over bearing two glasses of punch. “What’s wrong?” he asked, clearly noting the lines carved in her makeup from her tears._

_“Nothing. Let’s go,” she said, taking him by the arm._

Viktor, where was he? she wondered. He had been exceedingly kind. Maybe she could take him to the wedding. Charlie probably would not mind.

“So are you coming to the engagement party?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Engagement party? No, I was not told of such a thing.”

“Oh. Well, that’s probably because of my brother.”

“Which one?” Hermione said, trying to make light of a bad situation. “Bill?”

Charlie laughed. “Glad to see it’s not affected you too much. I appreciate a woman who can bounce back.”

Hermione did know how to respond to _that_. What did it matter if she was the type of woman he liked? She barely knew him.

“Yes, well, if I didn’t land on my feet, I would surely have kept falling.” Yikes. That came out darker than she had meant. But it was true, wasn’t it? She did seem to be still falling. Or if not falling, then stalled.

“Do you want to get a drink?” Charlie asked.

Hermione was caught off guard by the question. But then again, why not? Why not get a drink with her ex’s brother? She could use a drink. And it was not as if she could fall any further.

“What? The selection of beverages here isn’t to your liking?”

“You’re funny. You know that, right?”

Hermione gave her widest smile. That’s odd, she thought. Your brother never seemed to think so.

The two of them walked slowly down the rain-drenched sidewalk. It was a fine spring night and Hermione could admit that the streetlights reflecting in the puddles did make for quite the atmosphere. She and Charlie did not have much to talk about but her heart was racing and though she was nervous, she felt alive for once.

Maybe this is what her mother had meant when she had said go out and be social. Go out. Get drinks with a boy who is definitely not right for you. But she would at least feel something for once, right?

Or maybe, rational-brain Hermione thought, she was being very stupid and this could only end badly for everyone involved.

Eh. Screw rational-brain Hermione. She had done enough driving for now. Now it was time for reckless and free Hermione, the Hermione without limits.

Hermione looked at her “date.” He was not as tall as Ron. Or, she hated to admit it, as handsome as Bill. But in the warm spring air, he was vibrant and alive and smiling at her.

“I must admit, I didn’t think you would agree to this.”

“And why is that?”

“Oh, how about this one?” Charlie said, pointing to a pub seemingly at random. Hermione nodded and he held the door open for her. “I don’t mean to be rude… but you’re not exactly known to be the spontaneous type.”

Hermione smiled at him again. “Well, we’ll just have to change that.”

* * *

Hermione woke up the following morning with a pounding headache. Luckily it was Saturday. She walked from her bedroom down the stairs. She had drawn the blinds in her room but the rest of the house was filled with light. It made her head pound even harder. She covered her eyes with her hands.

Her mother and father were sitting at the table reading the paper—her mother had sports and her father had finances—and sipping tea. Hermione barely acknowledged them as she poured her own tea.

“I guess someone had fun with Jenny last night.”

Hermione was not going to correct her mother. There was no point. She had not actually been out with “Jenny.” But she also wasn’t going to tell. She may have lived under her parents’ roof but she was an adult with her own business. Plus there was no point in getting their hopes up.

“What time did you get in at?”

“Uh,” Hermione said, stalling as she thought about it. She remembered shots and then drunkenly apparating home. Yikes. She could’ve splinched herself. It was never a good idea to drink and apparate. “Well, it was dark outside.”

“Normally I would be concerned about this sort of behavior from you, but since you’ve never done anything like this before and all you’ve been doing lately is working and hiding up in your room, I guess it’s okay, but I certainly don’t think you should make a habit of it.”

Hermione wanted to say, “Thanks for the approval, mum. I didn’t need it.” But she kept her mouth shut. She did not need to provoke her parents when she also had a hangover.

“Where’s the paracetamol again?” she asked as she slurped appreciatively from her steaming mug of tea. Normally she would take a sober up potion but she did not have anywhere set up to brew at her house nor did she have the necessary ingredients. When even was the last time she had brewed anything?

“In the medicine cabinet in our room, honey.”

Hermione walked back up the stairs to her parent’s master bedroom. She opened their medicine cabinet. The plastic bottle was next to a squeeze bottle of something. Lube? Eugh. No, thank you. Too much information. She shut the cabinet harder than she meant to.


	5. Chapter 5

It was Friday again and somehow Hermione had found herself again with an invite from Charlie to go out. He had sent her an owl—Errol, miraculously still alive—at work, asking her if she wanted to get dinner and drinks again. Hermione had agreed, mostly because he had not said it was a date and because it felt good to do stuff that—oddly enough—did not remind her of Ron.

Ginny and Harry could not easily be divorced in her mind from Ron. But Charlie, despite his red hair, freckles, and some resemblance, could be. In her mind they were just two friends celebrating the start of the weekend. Last time they did not talk much but they did not need to when there was beer and a good time to be had.

They were perched on barstools in a bar that they had found while walking again. Hermione figured it was probably fun for Charlie to be out with the muggles. Hermione thought it was fun to do something wholly different and unlike her. It gave her the confidence that she had been sorely lacking these past months. That, and the alcohol.

“Hey,” she asked, waiting for the beleaguered bartender to fill up her pint. “Why did you invite me out again? It was fun but I can’t imagine I was _that_ fun to be with.”

Charlie looked devilish for a moment. “Why do you think Ginny had invited me out here in the first place?” Hermione looked at her drink that had now appeared at her elbow. That was right. She had totally forgotten about Ginny apparently tricking her to hang out with her brother.

“It is true I’m on sabbatical and it does line up nicely with my little sister’s wedding. But I took the sabbatical because I had to get away from work.”

Yes, Hermione thought, that is why people took sabbaticals.

“I mean, I was dating one of my coworkers and it got nasty fast. My boss suggested I take a couple months off because obviously he couldn’t lose both of us.”

Hermione nodded. “So, we were set up? But that’s ridiculous. We’re so not right for each other.”

“No, we really aren’t,” he said with a cheeky grin. He took a big gulp from his beer.

“But we understand each other, right?”

“That we do,” he said clinking his beer on hers.

Perhaps Hermione understood him a bit too well. She was using him and as it turned out, he was using her. It probably was not a recipe for anything good, but they were both in no hurry to see how this ended.

“What happened between you and my brother anyway?” he asked, also apparently gaining a bit of liquid courage. No one, not even her mother, had dared to ask that. Or maybe it had been obvious to everyone around them why it had skidded to a halt and burst into flames like a car in a wreck.

“I’m still not entirely sure,” she said with a small laugh, despite the truth in her words. She was not sure how it had all fallen apart. She could think of moments of anger and hurt feelings but nothing seemed to be the catalyst. Maybe that was how all relationships ended though, not with one big bang but a series of little explosions.

Charlie nodded sagely. “I know why mine ended. I was too protective of her. As our relationship progressed I wanted her to interact with fewer and fewer dragons. I would ask her to sit it out or to just let me handle it. She did not like that at all and eventually told me enough was enough.

“She was right of course. I couldn’t protect her. Not when it meant stifling who she wanted to be. Stung worse than an Atlantic Blue’s stinger.” Charlie laughed. “I’m getting more and more cliché as the night goes on.”

Now it was Hermione’s turn to nod. Ron had never been protective of her. But she had been suspicious of him. It was not entirely her fault though, was it? He had kissed that girl in auror training when they had first started dating. But maybe that was her fault for not seeing such an obvious red flag.

“If you want a cliché: hindsight is twenty-twenty.”

“I’m sorry?” he asked. Maybe he had not heard her.

“Hindsight is twenty-twenty,” she yelled over the din of the bar.

“Hindsight is twenty twenty?” he said, repeating it back to her slowly. Of course, Hermione thought. That was a muggle expression. He would not be familiar with it at all.

“It’s a muggle phrase. It, uh, means that looking back it’s easy to see where you went wrong. But in the moment it seems like you’re making all of the right decisions.”

“Where does it come from?”

In her addled state, it took Hermione a bit longer than normal to retrieve this information from the back of her mind. “Well… my parents are dentists—teeth doctors—not optometrists but—”

“Wait? Muggles have doctors for each of their body parts? That’s ridiculous!”

“Uh, well, kind of. Like doctors do specialize but dentists and optometrists are considered something separate from other doctors because of something called the historic rebuff.”

“I’m not sure I’m totally following what you’re saying but you sound really smart. Not that I’m surprised. That’s always what I heard about you”

Hermione laughed awkwardly. “Thank you! But compared to most wizards, I’m smarter about muggle topics. But I’m sure you can teach me about dragons.”

“Normally I would be skeptical of people telling me I can talk about dragons but I think with you I can talk about it for hours.”

“I will take that as a compliment. But I would not start waxing about them poetically now since we are in a muggle bar.”

“Heh. They’re all drunk. Besides maybe I’m just as passionate about mythological dragons.”

“Oh, so you’re maybe you’re one of those nerds.”

“I don’t know what that means but I’ll take it. Okay, so, since you’re new to dragonology, I’ll start you on a fairly simple one.”

He went on like that for some time, talking about different species, their favorite foods, their general temperaments, and the like. Hermione could feel herself smiling like an idiot the whole time, her smile stuck to her face.

At closing time, they said goodbye and Charlie invited her to do the same next week.

“Isn’t the engagement party next Saturday?” Hermione asked.

“Oh… that’s fine. We don’t have to stay out that late.” Charlie suddenly got that devilish look again. “What if you came to the party with me?”

“You mean like gatecrashing?”

“No, we’ll leave the gate intact.”

“Where is it?”

“At the Burrow, of course. Harry may be swimming in gold but my parents would never let him pay for stuff.”

“I don’t know. I don’t exactly want to see _him_ or the rest of your family. No offense.”

“None taken. I haven’t lived at home in years and now that I’m there while a wedding is being prepared. It’s the _worst_.”

Hermione smiled sympathetically. “I’ll think about it and get back to you.”

“I look forward to hearing it.” Charlie returned her smile. “Well, good night, Hermione.”

When Hermione got home all the lights were off. This time she had not been so drunk as when she had apparated home last time. Still she wobbled up the stairs in earnest.

Hermione’s parents said nothing to her as they read their morning paper. A chilly welcoming to say the least. Had she been particularly noisy when she had gotten home? She did not have to wait long for an answer because her mother said, “Your friend Jenny called last night.”

“That’s nice,” Hermione said, popping a slice of bread into the toaster.

“She called last night while you were out.”

Hermione could feel her heart rate quicken in her ears. She realized then how much she hated lying but mostly because she was so bad at it.

“I asked her why she was calling you if you were apparently out together and then she said she had no idea where you were.”

Thanks, Ginny, Hermione thought. Though she supposed she could not be too hard on her friend who had probably been caught off guard by the question. It was not as if she was expecting to lie for Hermione.

“So where were you last night, Hermione?”

“I was out,” Hermione said.

Hermione’s mother raised an eyebrow. Hermione’s mother was a human lie detector, which made Hermione’s inability to lie somewhat of a surprise. But it was not as if Hermione had ever needed to lie growing up. All she ever did was read and do homework. No boys or parties for her.

“By yourself?”

“No,” Hermione confessed. “With Charlie.”

“Charlie who?” Hermione’s father had finally put down his paper and joined the conversation. “Is that a friend from work?”

“Charlie Weasley,” Hermione said in a small voice.

Both her parents looked at her with a mixture of confusion and disappointment.

“A Weasley?”

“Ginny is a Weasley.”

“But Charlie is a boy’s name.”

Hermione wanted to say that was not necessarily the case. “It’s not like that. We’re just friends. I thought you wanted me to go out and make friends. What changed your mind?”

“I do. But I want you to make the _right kind_ of friends.” Oof. Hermione did not like the sound of that. “Who is he?” her mother asked.

“He’s one of Ginny’s brothers. You probably haven’t met him because he’s normally in Romania.”

“I figured as much. It’s so hard to keep track of their brood. Who has six kids in this day and age?”

“Mum, we’ve been over this.” And they had had _seven_ at one point, but Hermione was not going to bring that point up.

“I’m just saying they’re poor already. If they can’t afford one, why would they have six more?”

“Mum, it’s none of your business how many kids people have.”

“Alright, but you know that family is trouble. Why would you want to get involved with another one of them?”

“I told you. It’s not like that. He just went through a hard breakup too. We’re commiserating together.”

“Commiserating in the early morning?”

“That’s when the bars close.”

“Oh, did you hear that, dear? Our daughter is staying up till the bars close.” But her father did not take the bait and continued to read his newspaper—or at least pretend to.

“I’m just trying to have a little bit of fun for once in my life.”

“Aren’t you a little old for fun? And shouldn’t you be over your breakup by now? It’s almost been a full year and you need to drink yourself into a stupor with _his_ brother.”

“Okay. That’s it. I’m done.”

Hermione grabbed her jacket and put it over her pajamas.

“Where are you going dressed like that?”

“I don’t know.” And truly, she did not.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the nice comments and kudos! 🥰 As for my schedule, I hope to post weekly soon, but no promises 🤞

Hermione stood in the middle of her parents’ street, still quite unsure what her plan of action was. She had disillusioned herself to not attract stares from the neighbors. She shivered through her old, thin pajama bottoms.

So what if she wanted to do something stupid? She was promised that a lifetime of following the rules would get her where she wanted to be, yet she was decidedly _not where she wanted to be_. She was stalled, and she had to admit it, very unhappy.

Making up her mind, she transfigured her pajamas into jeans and a T-shirt and walked from the neighborhood and disapparated.

Hermione found herself again in London by her old favorite coffee shop. But she could not go in there. Just like she could not go into the coffee shop by her parents’ house. The risk of being recognized—and in this state!—was too great.

She walked farther and felt the chill still through her pant legs. They may appear like jeans but they certainly didn’t function like them. She passed by a window and realized her hair must look like a mess, so she put it up. Even though she had done it rather hastily, she did like the way it looked with curly tendrils framing her face. And, if she had done this correctly, it was not like she was going to run into anyone she knew.

She went to the back of the line, behind other people desperate for caffeination. She could tell based on their tired eyes and the dehydrated look they had about them.

Hermione stared at their offerings written in colorful chalk. She had not realized that she had wandered into _one of those places_. But maybe she should not think like that. Maybe in this way she could also be more open-minded. Normally she would just order a coffee and be done with it. She liked her coffee black, but would sometimes add milk if she was feeling indulgent. But today maybe she would do something different.

The names on the chalkboard held no meaning for her, however. She had no idea what the contents were or how the drink had been prepared. She was pretty sure there was coffee involved, but beyond that was a mystery. She could hardly ask the barista what everything was so she just set out to order the thing that was the easiest for her to pronounce correctly, but beyond just a regular coffee.

She gave her order, feeling confident that she must have pronounced it mostly right since the person taking her order did not look at her too strangely.

“Name?” the cashier asked.

“Hermione,” Hermione said with a smile. She thought the cashier might ask her to spell it but nope, no such thing occurred. Either she did not care or maybe she had a fondness for the classics that would give her an edge in spelling.

She sat down in the back of the cafe and it was only then that she had realized what she had done. She had stormed out of her parents’ house to come to a random coffee shop in her pajamas.

“Ah, Hermione, fancy seeing you here,” a deep voice said from behind her.

Crap, she was being recognized. She turned, contorting her face into what she hoped was a friendly look, to look at who was speaking to her.

He was tall, though not as tall as she remembered, wearing one of his usual, shabby tweed suits. Hermione would have thought that he would have more money now to buy new suits but perhaps he was committed to the starving professor aesthetic. But who was she to judge? She was in her pajamas, very hungover, and in no mood to talk.

“Nice to see you too, Professor Lupin.” A lie. Well, it was not like she did not want to see him; it was more that she did not look or feel her best. She probably projected an aura of sadness and misery.

“Do you come here often?” he asked. Hermione couldn’t tell if he was just trying to be polite as they both made their way through an awkward situation or if he genuinely wanted to know.

“Uh, no, today is a... special occasion.” _Like fighting with my parents,_ she thought. _That_ never _happens._

“So, you don’t live around here, I take it?”

“No, you’re right; only visiting,” she lied. Well, technically she was just visiting the area. To get a coffee. She wondered how much longer this conversation was going to last. She listened for her name to be called.

Lupin looked momentarily confused but he asked, “Are you visiting the happy couple?” The happy couple? Hermione assumed that he must have been talking about Harry and Ginny.

“Yes,” she said quickly, hoping that if she spoke fast enough then she would obscure her inability to lie.

“Are you going to the engagement party next week?”

Hermione thought about it for a moment. Should she say she was? She had remembered telling Charlie last night that they were going to crash the party but she did not know if drunken promises extended into the following morning.

“Foolish question. Of course you are going,” he added.

But luckily, over the din of the burr grinder, milk steamer, and people chatter, Hermione was just barely able to make out her name.

“Oh, that’s my order,” she said, abruptly turning on her heel to return to the counter.

Hermione was glad her name was called at that moment because she really did not want to explain to an old professor, of all people, that she had actually not been invited because everyone was worried she would cause a scene around Ron.

She picked up her drink and scrawled on the cup was what she believed to be “Hermeyeohnee.” _Close enough_ , she thought.

But when she turned around to leave she was surprised to see Lupin still looking at her expectantly. Did he honestly expect her to continue their conversation from before? And if so, how would she get out of it?

“I’m sorry if you’re in a hurry. I was just wondering, because I am also going to visit them this morning, so I was thinking we could go together.”

Hermione’s pulse spiked. She had not intended to visit Harry and Ginny, especially not looking like this. She had to get out of this situation and fast.

“Oh, I was thinking of surprising them, but if you already had planned on it, I would hate to impose.”

“I’m sure it will be no imposition—”

But it was then that Hermione decided to take her mobile phone out of her pocket and pretend to get a call before walking out of the café. Once she was out of sight, she put her phone back into her jacket pocket, where it reformed into her wallet.

She had handled that encounter _spectacularly._

After sitting in a nearby park with her coffee cup in hand—which, by the way, Hermione found insufferably sweet—she finally decided it was time to go home to apologize to her parents.

They accepted though she wasn’t expecting anything else. She was their only daughter. Then she walked upstairs to get lost in books before Monday and work started.

* * *

At their Friday night platonic date—date that was not a date—Hermione hemmed and hawed about telling Charlie about her strange encounter with Lupin. Surely he must remember his old teacher. But on the other hand, it was quite odd and she still didn’t know what to make of it.

“So, how are we getting me in?”

“Through the front door?” Charlie joked.

“I was thinking something more creative.”

“And did you have any ideas?”

“I may have a couple.”

Hermione woke up without a hangover thanks to Charlie smuggling her a potion the night before. She was still tired, however. The engagement party was supposed to take place at lunch outside of the Burrow.

She put on a simple sundress and strappy sandals. It was a rather nice day; they could not have asked for better weather. Charlie had convinced her to let him pick her up at her place to freak out her parents though in the clarity of the morning she wondered if that was such a good idea.

“You’re going to Jenny’s engagement party?” her mother asked, her incredulity obvious even from behind a newspaper.

“Yep,” Hermione said, grabbing a snack from the refrigerator.

“And you’re not worried about seeing him?”

“No, of course not. It’s almost been a year. I’m over it, remember?”

There was a knock on the door. Hermione ran to the front of the house but her father beat her to it.

“Hello.” Her father’s surprise was palpable. Hermione saw why this was when she caught sight of Charlie in a button-up shirt and tie, a bouquet of flowers clutched in his hands. She could kill him.

“These are for you,” Charlie said, dramatically holding out the bouquet for her. She took them into the house and passed them off to her mother, who gave her a look out of the corner of her eye.

“May I come in?” Charlie called from over Hermione’s dad’s shoulder.

“I’m not sure,” Hermione yelled back at him.

“Mr. Granger?”

“I don’t know; it’s up to Hermione.”

Hermione rolled her eyes but relented.

“So, you’re Charlie,” Hermione’s mother said, eyeing him suspiciously.

“The one and only.”

“How come we haven’t met you before?”

“I’ve been in Romania. Didn’t Hermione tell you? I wrangle dragons for a living.”

“She might’ve mentioned it.”

Charlie beamed at her mother, probably hoping to charm her into liking him.

“You’re not worried about your brother?”

“Which one? Bill? He is quite handsome but he is married, so I don’t think he’ll steal Hermione from me.” When he met Hermione’s mother’s flinty expression, he amended, “I can promise you it won’t be a problem. He won’t even know she’s there.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so maybe I am not very good at promises... *But* I think since July Camp NaNoWriMo is almost over I will have more time to work on this story. 🤞🤞🤞

Once outside her parent’s house, Hermione donned a hat which would considerably change her face. Her nose lengthened, her eyes lightened and changed shape, and her hair straightened and shortened. She also grew a couple of inches.

“How do I look?” she asked, giving her disguise a little twirl.

“Exceptionally ordinary.”

“I suppose that is a compliment.”

“ _You_ might suppose that.”

“Well, do I look like someone you would bring to a siblings’ anniversary party?”

“As like a rebound first date, definitely.”

Hermione laughed. She would need to work on disguising her voice; that part did not change when she used the enchantment.

“I got the idea from Bill and Fleur’s wedding. We—the three of us,” she felt like she did not have to clarify which three people she was talking about, “pretended to be other people to avoid detection from Death Eaters.”

Charlie frowned for a moment, as if something Hermione had said had upset him. Was he sad that he had missed Bill and Fleur’s wedding? But he has been there, hadn’t he? Hermione was probably too worried about not getting killed to remember who was in attendance.

No, Charlie had definitely been there. Now she could recall him standing beside Bill during the ceremony. Charlie had been the best man. How could Hermione have forgotten that? Had she just not paid much attention to Charlie in the past?

“I’m sorry,” he said, finally coming back to himself. “It’s just, it’s one thing when your older brother gets married. But now my baby sister is getting married too. I’m the last one.”

Hermione was about to add that Ron had not yet been married. But he had been about to marry Hermione so that distinction probably would not make Charlie feel better anyway, especially since Hermione had no idea what was going on between Ron and Lavender. In fact, maybe Charlie knew something she did not.

She put a hand on his shoulder. Hermione had never touched him before but the gesture felt like it might be helpful. He seemed to lean into her hand so perhaps it had been the right thing for Hermione to do.

“Okay, are you ready to cause some mischief?”

Hermione laughed. “No, but when am I ever?”

He took his hand in hers and they apparated with a pop, only to reappear on the lawn of the Burrow. Their hands remained intertwined to sell the lie that they were a couple. Hermione prayed her hands would not get too sweaty.

Normally Hermione might feel guilty lying to a friend, but she felt that as the sister of Fred and George, it would probably make Ginny laugh when she learned of it later. Hermione had no idea how Harry would take it but pleasing him was less important than making Ginny Happy. In any case, they had been the ones to force Charlie onto her. Wasn’t this just accepting what they had done?

As they neared the front gate, Hermione felt her pulse quicken. Maybe she was not ready to see Ron again, even in a disguise. She really had not thought this through had she? It had seemed like a good idea after two pints but now she was not so sure.

A tent had been set up on the lawn with guests milling underneath and around it. This had been the same tent for all other Weasley celebrations and it crushed her a bit to see it once more. If everything had gone the way it was supposed to, she would also have stood under that tent in a white dress while her mother cried.

“Did you tell them you were bringing a date?”

“Yeah.”

Hermione was suddenly gripped by panic once more. Wouldn’t someone think it was odd that she seemed about their age but she had not attended Hogwarts with anyone else? Panicking, she thought about whether she could do a convincing accent. Or maybe she could say she was homeschooled. Or maybe no one would think about it too hard and she was overreacting.

Hermione saw Mrs. Weasley then, her eyes following them and watched her give fake Hermione a disapproving once over. It was not as if she had not been on the receiving end of that look before. But Mrs. Weasley brightened when she saw her son. Hermione also knew this feeling all too well.

“Mom, this is—” Charlie paused. They had not thought of a name. “Rebeccah.”

Hermione extended a hand. “But you can call me Becky!” 

Mrs. Weasley gave Charlie a look then that seemed to say “and just where did you find her?” Hermione wondered then if she was an improvement over his ex or if Mrs. Weasley had even met her. Or had he just kept her in Romania like so many other aspects of himself.

“Thank you so much for having me, even if you did not necessarily invite me!” Hermione said, the double meaning of her words known only to herself and maybe Charlie. “I can’t wait to meet the bride- and groom-to-be!”

“Certainly,” Mrs. Weasley replied, looking around uneasily. “I believe they’re over there.”

When Hermione followed Mrs. Weasley’s outstretched hand she was pleased to see that Harry and Ginny were talking to a group of people, none of whom were Ron or Lavender. Charlie practically pulled his arm out of her socket as he dragged her over to the group. They were talking and smiling among themselves but the moment they caught sight of Hermione their faces turned to confusion. Who was this girl with Charlie?

“Hello, everyone. This is my lovely date for today, Rebeccah,” Charlie said, still not releasing his iron grip from Hermione’s hand.

“Haha,” Hermione laughed softly. “Only for today, my dear? Hello, everyone. You can call me Becky.” Hermione extended her hand to everyone in the group and slowly repeated everyone’s names as if she was learning them for the first time. There was Professor Lupin, Neville, Hannah Abbott, but no Luna. Hermione wanted to look around for her but she feared that would be suspicious for a newcomer. A newcomer would not be looking for someone.

“Congratulations on your nuptials, Harry and Jenny,” Hermione said.

“Ginny,” Harry corrected. But Hermione was not looking at him, but rather at Ginny. If she was not mistaken, she could see a devilish glint in Ginny’s eyes. Her hint had not been none too subtle and if it did not seem that Ginny was angry that Hermione had crashed the party. If anything she was positively amused by the development.

“Excuse me,” Hermione said. “My left ear hasn’t been the same after someone set off a Wildfire Whiz-bangs too close.”

“It wasn’t one of my brothers’ was it?” Ginny asked.

“One of Charlie’s?” Hermione asked, feigning ignorance.

“Oh, no one of George’s.” Ginny turned around to look around behind here. “Ah, there he is!” Ginny said ushering him over. “George, come meet Charlie’s new girlfriend.”

This continued for some time with Ginny introducing her to more and more relatives. It must have looked strange to outsiders for Ginny to be so concerned with telling everyone about a random girl that Charlie had just met but Hermione could tell Ginny was having the time of her life doling out incorrect details about “Becky” to anyone who would listen.

“Becky is a governess for trolls,” Ginny exclaimed to her Aunt Bertha who gave Hermione a once-over.

Hermione looked around to see how Charlie was enjoying these jabs but he was nowhere to be found. If this had been a real situation and she had been left with a group of people she had no familiarity with, she might have been very angry. But since she was already intimately acquainted with the group, she knew she could take everything in stride.

While looking for Charlie, Hermione caught the eye of Professor Lupin who was looking at her most curiously. She could not parse his meaning so she turned away lest she stare back at him.

Eventually Ginny ran out of relatives to introduce Hermione to—save Ron—but since Ginny knew what was going on, she did not dare. Hermione was immensely grateful for this fact and when she did finally catch sight of him—the slope of his shoulders was unmistakable—she ran under the tent to grab a refreshment.

“Where has Charlie run off to?” she heard a voice ask from beside her. When Hermione had felt the presence beside her, her heart rate had quickened, but when she heard the voice she knew it was not Ron.

“I don’t have a clue,” Hermione said with a giggle. “Pretty rude of him to leave me here all alone though, isn’t it?”

“Really? And why would that be, Hermione?”

Hermione dropped the nervous smile and looked at the man standing beside her, drink in hand.

“Who told you?” she asked nervously. It did not need to be secret and it was fine for Lupin to know, but she did not want Ron to find out.

Now it was Lupin’s turn to look uncomfortable. “Kind of hard to explain. I have a heightened sense of smell and I remember what you smell like.”

He had not been exaggerating when he had said it was weird. He remembered what she smelled like? Her? Although she supposed she still remembered all sorts of smells. Like she could not remember why a deodorant she had been idly sniffing at a drugstore had reminded her so much of her childhood summers until she realized it had been scented with the same smelly aromatic as the bug spray her parents used to put on her.

But remembering the smell of people? That seemed rough. Now Hermione was starting to feel self-conscious. Did she smell particularly, memorably bad?

After having an especially long thought about scent-memory, Hermione realized that Lupin was looking at her expectantly. Was he wondering why she was at a party in a disguise when she presumably would not have to be?

Hermione looked around before explaining barely above a whisper, “I was not technically invited. Charlie thought it would be funny for me to crash the party.”

“Why wouldn’t you be invited?” Lupin asked. Hermione could not believe he was asking that. Wasn’t it obvious? Did he not know? Hermione thought everyone knew.

“They thought I would cause a scene.”

“More of a scene than you’re causing now?”

“No,” Hermione said. “They thought I would have a fight with… someone.”

“But aren’t you invited to the wedding? Aren’t you the maid of honor?”

“Yes, well, I don’t know exactly what the reasoning was. Maybe they thought I would be able to control myself on the actual day of the wedding.”

“So, is this party everything you hoped it would be?”

“I haven’t been to many engagement part, but I imagine this is par for the course,” Hermione said.

Professor Lupin took a sip before looking around. “And the bride-to-be knows you’re here?”

“Yes, she does and she is enjoying it a little too thoroughly. And Charlie knows. And you obviously know.”

“But you do not want anyone else to know?”

“No, I would prefer them not to know.”

They were still alone under the tent. Hermione did not know if she should leave and look for Charlie. But it also felt safe under here. Though this was a foolish assumption. There was a chance Ron could come under any second looking for a snack.

Why did she think she would be able to face Ron? She was definitely not ready to see his face even if it was behind the face of someone else.

“And what have you been up to?”

“Me?” Hermione asked. “Nothing. Just working.” And you know, the usual heartbroken stuff. “What about you?”

“Teaching.”

Hermione remembered that now, that he had taken up the position as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor once more.

“That’s good. And how’s Teddy?” Hermione asked, grasping for conversational straws. She was ashamed that she had not really kept in contact with him as Harry had. But when your life becomes consumed with your own grief, it’s hard to let other people in.

“He’s great. He’s starting school soon.”

Wow, Hermione thought. Had that much time really passed? It felt like just yesterday they had defeated Voldemort and Teddy was already old enough to go to school.

“I’m not sure exactly how well that’s going to work. Normally magical kids are homeschooled until they’re old enough to go to Hogwarts but since I’ll be teaching other kids I don’t know how he’s going to learn.” Hermione nodded. “I suppose he could go to a Muggle boarding school but he takes after his mother and that will be pretty hard to hide, at least while he’s young and still learning to control it.”

Hermione had heard similar discussions from her previous sisters-in-law. They were discussing the merits of sending their children to Muggle schools or homeschooling them. Fleur had left her job at Gringotts as soon as she and Bill had started having children but Ginny and Angelina did not want to quit their jobs to teach their kids. But George and Angelina did not have children of their own yet.

She did not know about Audrey but she doubted that she would let a career stand between her and her husband’s ambition. She would probably gladly homeschool their children if it was politically advantageous for Percy.

“So, he’s a metamorphmagus?” Hermione asked, knowing full well that he was. She was only trying to be polite and she was fairly certain they had run out of friendly topics to talk about.

“Yes, and he has quite a habit of mimicking the appearance of every new person he meets. Most people are insulted by this though. They think he’s mocking them.”

“How charming,” Hermione said. She knew that children lacked certain social graces so while it was hard to fault a child who did not know better, she could sympathize with the people who had their faces reflected back at them on the body of a toddler.

“There you are!” Hermione heard from behind her. It was Charlie, of course. Hermione wanted to say, “What are you talking about? You’re the one who abandoned me.” But she kept her mouth shut.

“I see you’ve met Becky, Professor Lupin.”

“He knows,” Hermione said, quietly.

Charlie looked at Professor Lupin again, scrutinizing him, but why Hermione did not know. “Did he sniff you out?”

Hermione was surprised. So this was not an uncommon thing? Or was this a well-known thing about werewolves? Hermione knew that Charlie had studied magizoology but she was not certain if werewolves fell under that purview. They were still _people_ after all, weren’t they?

Before Professor Lupin could answer they were called away by Ginny. Apparently there was someone else “Becky” had to meet. Hermione’s heart quickened as they left the sanctity of the tent which she knew was irrational. Ginny knew and for this reason she would be able to keep her and Ron apart. Maybe this had not been such a bad idea after all.


	8. Chapter 8

“Can I have everyone’s attention?” Mrs. Weasley said, tapping the side of her wine glass with a spoon. As they were instructed, everyone turned to look at her.

“Now then,” she began, a grin spreading across her face. “I am sure you all want to get back to socializing, so I won’t keep you long.” Mrs. Weasley said with a laugh.

“Well, first I would like to thank you all for coming. Next, I would like to thank Ginny’s wonderful bridesmaids for helping me set this up today.” A smattering of polite claps rose from the crowd. “I hope I don’t sound overly sentimental, but I consider these girls to be my daughters. I know, I have so many children already. How could I want more?”

The tent erupted in laughter, while Hermione sipped her drink and tried not to make her glower too obvious. She knew Mrs. Weasley was full of it—not only from her own experience, but also the way in which she treated Fleur. No one was ever good enough for her boys, as she had made abundantly clear to Hermione.

“Well, I was only blessed with one daughter. I wanted more—and it was not for lack of trying.” More laughter. “So, I am pleased that my sons have brought more daughters into my life.

“Ginny,” Mrs. Weasley said, turning her attention to the woman of the hour, “of course, you know you are my daughter already; I don’t need to tell you that. But, Harry, from the moment I first met you, I have always considered you a seventh son. So, I could not be more proud to make it official. I could not ask for a better husband for my daughter!

“And if you could hurry it up on the grandchildren, that would be wonderful! At this point I thought I would have more than just three.”

Hermione grimaced. She could not stand those kinds of comments from Mrs. Weasley when she had been with Ron, so she was sure Ginny and Harry were equally enthused, especially since they had been said in front of all of their friends and family.

“Whoops,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Me and my big mouth.”

Hermione was not sure what Mrs. Weasley was alluding to until Hermione followed her gaze to a horrified Aubrey.

That’s right, Hermione thought. It was still not public knowledge that Aubrey was pregnant.

But Mrs. Weasley continued as if nothing was wrong. She held up her glass and everyone followed suit. “To Harry and Ginny!” she said.

“To Harry and Ginny!” the tent echoed. Hermione joined, but only for her friends’ sake.

“Now I would like to invite someone who is not—by law—one of my daughters but I hope someday will be. Lavender, would you come up here?”

Lavender practically bounced to where Mrs. Weasley was standing. Hermione rolled her eyes. “Thank you, Molly, for that wonderful introduction. Although we may have not always gotten along, Gin, I feel so blessed to have gotten to know you better since I started dating your brother.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” Lavender said playfully. “You know I love your family and I love that everyone has been so open and welcoming to me. Bill,” she said, pointing at him, “thank you for finally teaching me what ‘amortization’ means. I definitely thought that was something else. I am glad we cleared that up.

“Percy, thank you for getting me my passport at the last minute. You really saved our trip to Bora Bora. George, thank you for the last minute gift for my little sister. Her rabbit was lime green for a month; she loved it!

“And Charlie! I have not really interacted with you before, but I hope to do so more in the future,” she said with a wink.

The comment rankled Hermione. She did not know why she suddenly felt possessive of Charlie, but she did, nevertheless. Charlie did not belong to her in any sense but the feeling persisted. Almost as if, Lavender had gotten her claws into Ron, then she could get her claws into Charlie.

“Now it’s the best man’s turn to say a few words.”

Ron stood next to Lavender, who was now holding his hand. Hermione almost gagged. “Harry, I love you. You’re the best friend I could ever ask for. I know you’ll take care of my sister and be loyal and true. And I hope to one day have a relationship that’s as perfect as yours.”

The audience clapped, but Hermione thought it sounded a little more than forced. To be fair, his speech was probably the worst, which was saying a lot considering who his competition was.

Hermione stopped clapping abruptly, however, when Ron turned to Lavender to kiss her, even going so far as to dip her back a little bit. Gross. This was all gross. _Love_ was gross. She needed another drink.

Charlie found her at the refreshment table. “Haven’t you had enough?” he asked, a laugh softening his accusation.

Hermione curled her lip, a gesture that probably came across harder than she had intended. “Sorry,” she said, bristling “But don’t you know how hard this is for me? Forgive for having a hard time.”

It was not like Hermione could not take context clues. She was not going to get smashed while at a family event, but, at the same time, what did he care? She was gatecrashing—her presence was already unwelcome. What did it matter to Charlie, who had suggested the gatecrashing, that she was causing problems? Bringing her with him was problematic enough.

“Could you at least try to behave though?”

Hermione nearly spat out her drink. “Try to behave? This _is_ me trying. And you may have forgotten, but this was your idea.”

“I know but it seemed a better idea at the time. And I did not realize how poorly it would reflect on me.”

“ _You_ ,” Hermione said, crossing her arms. Unfortunately she was so angry that she had not considered that she would spill some of her drink on herself.

“Me?” Charlie asked.

“No. ‘I did not realize how poorly _you_ would reflect on me.’ You meant to say ‘me,’ and not ‘it.’ Didn’t you? Well, I am sorry I am embarrassing you.”

She pushed past Charlie. She did not have to be here. Hell, she was not sure she even wanted to be here. Why would she? No one had wanted her here in the first place.

The rejection was a raw feeling, but it also felt like a knife to the gut. For all of their faults, this was supposed to be _her_ family. And they had replaced her like she was disposable.

“Hermione!” Charlie yelled after.

There were audible gasps as everyone turned to look at Hermione.

Guess it’s time for me to leave, she thought, as she Disapparated.

The next day Hermione could not get out of bed. She lay there, replaying her fight with Charlie over and over in her head. If the Weasleys did not hate her before, they probably did now. Would she be disinvited from the wedding?

Hermione was only briefly distracted from her thought spiral by a knock on her door. When she did not answer, the knock only became more insistent. She knew it was her mother, coming to ask her why she was not up immediately and to bug her more about the party. Even though Hermione had already told her mother multiple times the previous night that she was fine and the party had gone perfectly smoothly.

Covering her eyes with her duvet and feeling absolutely rotten, she certainly did not feel fine. This was not selling it to her mother. And it was also doing a horrible job of selling it to herself.

“I’m fine,” she called through the door. “I am just having a bit of a lie-in today.”

“Until one in the afternoon?”

Hermione sighed. Could her mother do anything else besides worry about her? She was always encouraging Hermione to get out but why was she not doing the same thing? Surely she had more exciting things to do on the weekend.

When Hermione did not respond immediately, her mother added, “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it more?”

Hermione covered her face with her pillow. What did her mother expect? Her to cry and spill all of her deepest, darkest feelings? No. Not only was she not in the mood, she had never had that kind of relationship with her mother. In fact, she had always been jealous of the way Ginny just told Mrs. Weasley things. 

Hermione heard the telltale sign of her mother’s footsteps meaning she had left her place outside of the door. But Hermione kept her pillow on her face and did not move. There was no reason for her to be up, so stay in bed she would.

“Hermione?” she heard her father say. Oh, great, now her father was getting involved. “Are you alright? You know your mother means well.”

“I’m fine,” she yelled through the door. 


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione stared at her ceiling, wondering how much longer she could lay down in her childhood bed that definitely did not fit her, before her parents threatened to break down the door.

Alright, maybe they wouldn’t do that. She was, after all, a full-grown adult—despite what the bed might indicate—and they would probably leave her to her devices. They probably wouldn’t care as long as she eventually got up and did her chores and went to work.

She might get up soon, she told herself. In fact, she was getting a little bored just staring at the ceiling. But she was so embarrassed. Embarrassed about ruining the party. Embarrassed about how hurt she felt by the Weasleys. Embarrassed by the fact that she had felt possessive of Ron _and_ Charlie, one of whom no longer belonged to her and one of whom never had.

“Hermione!” Her mother called from the other side of her door.

Hermione covered her face with her duvet and groaned. “I told you; I’m fine!” she yelled back.

“Hermione Jean!”

“What?” she said, throwing the duvet off of her. “What is it?” she said, practically stomping to her door and flinging it open. Perhaps she was a child after all, she thought ruefully. 

“You have a visitor,” her mother said tersely.

Hermione’s mind jumped from Ginny, then to Harry, or maybe even Luna, before landing squarely on Ron. She sort of hated herself for it, but the melodramatic side of her wished, however improbable it was, that he would be there, begging for her forgiveness.

The person who stepped out from behind her mother, however, was not Ron at all, though he was red-haired.

“Hello,” Charlie said, waving shyly. “Can we talk?”

Hermione crossed her arms self-consciously. Though she was wearing a dressing gown, she was still wearing her pajamas in front of him. But Charlie, to his credit, seemed totally unaware of her current state of dress.

She indicated to her mother to give them some privacy, before Charlie added, “I was thinking we could talk somewhere else? Like out?”

Hermione’s eyes widened at the suggestion. She could not possibly fathom what he would want to speak to her about, if the conversation could not be had within the walls of her parents’ home. Was it something terrible?

“Well, if we’re doing that, I have to shower,” she said.

“Oh, right,” Charlie said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly, exposing the dragon tattoo on his tricep. Hermione had not noticed that there previously. She wondered how many other tattoos he had in places not immediately visible to her.

“We can entertain your guest while you get ready, Hermione,” her mother said, gesturing for Charlie to follow her down the stairs. “I’m sure there’s plenty of things we can talk about.”

Hermione did not like the sound of that but she really did not have much choice in the matter, did she? It was not as if she could yell after them, “Please don’t talk about Ron!” So, she watched them go before turning back into her room to get something to wear to go “out”—whatever that entailed.

Standing under the steaming water, Hermione thought about all she had done. She had not anticipated showering that day, but she supposed she had also not anticipated a visit from Charlie either. Hermione did not know what was worse: moping in bed all day or being told by her best friend’s—and ex’s—brother that she was no longer the maid of honor, because she had ruined the engagement party.

She could not think of another reason for Charlie being there except to be the bearer of this bad news. It did not matter that it had not been her idea to crash the party; it was her presence that was unwanted, not his. Hermione did not know him but Charlie would probably not have admitted to it being his idea anyway.

So, as she pondered her toes, Hermione was already making peace with this change. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise. She would, after all, be spared the pain of having to interact with Ron further. And if Lavender took over her role… well, that was all the better for Lavender, wasn’t it?

Hermione was still scrunching her damp curls when she walked into the kitchen to see her parents staring blankly at Charlie. He appeared to be telling them about his subject matter of expertise, while they looked on, mildly horrified and probably absorbing none of what he was saying. Briefly she wondered what they must make of this man who looked slightly like her ex, only shorter, more freckled, and—as Hermione had just learned—tattooed.

“Alright,” Hermione said, getting their attention. “I am ready to go.” Her interruption earned her relieved smiles all around, which is how she also noticed the slight gap between Charlie’s two front teeth—another thing for her parents to remark and pass judgment upon. 

Charlie stood up, offering his hand to her parents. “Well, it was nice to get to know you a little bit more, Mr. and Mrs. Granger. I hope we will see each other more in the future.”

If Hermione had been in a different headspace, she might have picked up on that comment. But she was still focused on the inevitable delivery of bad news as she and Charlie walked to the front door. Charlie offered his arm for Apparition, which she took readily. At this point, Hermione could handle anything he could potentially say to her.

They reappeared at a park, which made Hermione uneasy, not only because of her history with parks in general, but also because they were Apparating in broad daylight. Even if she could not have expected Charlie to know about the former, she would have expected him to be familiar with the rules regarding the latter.

“Charlie!” Hermione hissed, looking around frantically. “The Muggles could have seen us.”

Charlie laughed, patting her arm. Hermione did not realize they were still touching, but she made no move to disentangle herself from him. “Don’t worry; I’ve been here before. The Muggles never come around to this part of the park—much too depressing.”

Hermione saw the memorial bench but could not get a better look at who it was dedicated to because Charlie was already gently leading her away. “Come along. We have much ground to cover and even more to discuss.”

Hermione did not know what that meant but she was not really in the mood to protest so she let Charlie lead her around. Normally she would not be so touchy-feely with someone she did not know so well, but it had been so long that she had felt the touch of another person that she just went with it. Her life, she realized, had become like that part of the park—much too depressing.

“What did you want to talk about?” Hermione asked, when Charlie had not said anything for a while. “About the engagement party?”

“In a sense,” Charlie said, turning Hermione down another path. Hermione could see why he had made this decision. They had come upon a pond, which was filled with all sorts of colorful waterfowl.

“My mother was not exactly pleased about your appearance at the party,” he began.

“Naturally,” Hermione responded, preparing herself for the worst.

“I tried to tell her that it was not your idea—” Oh, so Charlie was a better person than she could have hoped for. “—but she could still not fathom why we had done it. So, I may have come up with a lie…”

“That’s fine, I’m sure,” Hermione said, when Charlie was unusually silent once more.

“Well… it may have not been the most intelligent or well-thought-out lie.”

“Oh?”

“I may have told her that while we were lying about your identity, we were not lying about your relationship to me.”

The meaning of what Charlie was saying took a while to sink in. “Oh,” was all she said.

“Yeah, not one of my brighter moves… but think of it this way—we’ll both benefit from this lie!”

“And how’s that?”

“Not only will my mum stop bugging me about my ex, you can make my brother jealous.” Hermione made a face. “Come on, don’t act like it’s not obvious.”

That was the exact wrong thing for Charlie to say. Hermione could feel her heartbeat threatening to burst through her chest. “It’s obvious!?” she asked, pulling away from him. Hermione could not bear the thought. She had been going around, noticeably heartbroken for Ron? How mortifying!

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, trying and failing to reassure her. “I just meant, if I were in the same situation as you, I would also be trying to make him jealous. So, what do you say?”

Hermione looked at Charlie, from his brown eyes, which were so similar, yet so different from Ron’s blue, to his earnest, lopsided grin, which showed off the gap she had only just begun to notice, and thought, “What the Hell?” It was not like she had anything else better to do with her time.

“Alright,” she said, “you have yourself a deal.”


	10. Chapter 10

Later that week Hermione had another planning event with the other bridesmaids and though she had not told any of them about her newfound “relationship” with Charlie, she had no doubt they would all be aware. And sure enough, when she walked through the door of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, their stares told her everything she needed to know. The expressions on their faces ranged from curious (Luna) to downright scandalized (Audrey) and every shade in between. Hermione put on her best Gryffindor smile and gave a little wave.

But before she could sit down and have a conversation with any of them, Lavender greeted her and waved her into the kitchen to help her. Hermione hesitated but did as she was bidden. Better to get it over sooner rather than later, she figured. There were finger foods on trays on the table and a kettle on the stove. It appeared that everything was ready to be served but Hermione should have figured she would be called in for a lecture, whether for ruining the shower or trying to weasel her way back into the Weasley family.

True to her word, however, Lavender asked Hermione to get cups and saucers from the cabinet. Hermione did so without a word, but she had to wonder if it was a tiny dig at her since, having previously lived there with Ron, she would know exactly where all of the good china was kept.

“So, how have you been?” Lavender asked while Hermione gently placed each cup on its saucer. It would have been faster with magic but Hermione did not trust herself not to break one through an overzealous swish or flick.

“Quite well. Busy at work,” Hermione responded, dancing around the subject that Lavender clearly wanted to know more about. “But I can’t complain. You?”

“I am doing well too. Helping Ginny with the wedding has kept me very busy.”

“Hmm,” Hermione hummed, pursing her lips. “Ginny is lucky to have you. And you seem to have a talent for it.” If Lavender was trying to get under her skin, Hermione would not give her the satisfaction of letting her know that it got to her.

“So… Charlie, huh?” Lavender was evidently growing bored of dancing around the subject.

“Oh, that? Yeah, it was an inevitability, I think.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Ginny was trying to set us up, was she not?”

“She never told me about such a thing, no.”

Hermione exhaled loudly. “I mean, Harry and I were supposed to go out to dinner together and then he bailed at the last minute with Charlie taking his place. Is that not the oldest trick in the book?”

“I think they wanted you to be friends, yes. I don’t think she had any designs about you becoming a couple.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, feigning disappointment. “Well, there’s no going back now. I like Charlie quite a bit.”

“You do?”

“You sound surprised.”

“Forgive me. I just wouldn’t assume that you and he would have much in common.”

Hermione’s first instinct was to retort that she and Ron had also had nothing in common, but she thought better of it, so she said, “You know what they say… opposites attract. Plus, he’s _athletic_.”

She knew she was laying it on a bit thick and the wink at the end was probably too much, but if she could make Lavender uncomfortable, Hermione considered it a bonus. Perhaps next time Lavender would think twice about digging for information from her.

“Er, right… Well, I am happy for you two and I wish you all the best.”

Then the tea kettle started to whistle.

Hermione helped hand out the cups of tea. When she had finished, the bride herself had arrived before pulling Hermione into a rib-crushing hug.

“I don’t know what you’re planning, Mione,” she whispered into her ear, “but just don’t fuck this up for me, okay?”

Of anyone, Hermione should have expected that Ginny would be the one who could see right through her plan--well, technically _Charlie’s_ plan. But why would Ginny assume that it would impact the wedding at all. Charlie only offered so that Hermione could continue being a member of the wedding party. It was not as if Hermione was going to cause more mischief. That would only happen if she was dating a different Weasley entirely.

But when Ginny pulled away and made eye contact with her, Hermione simply smiled and nodded. She would not object. Hermione could be the perfect friend and maid of honor. Especially since all of the work was being done by Lavender.

“Alright,” Lavender began, standing beside her big pad of paper once more. “Now we must make plans for the hen party. Any ideas?” Audrey raised her hand. And Hermione thought _she_ was bad. “Yes, Audrey?”

“How long is this party going to last? Is it going to be a one night kind of event or a long weekend?”

“That’s a good question. Ginny?”

Ginny shrugged. “I don’t care. I just want to have a good time.”

That response earned her a chorus of half-hearted cheers. Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. She was not immune to the idea of having fun, but she could not foresee herself having a good time with the Weasley WAGs, even if she was ostensibly one herself. At least Luna would be there.

Hermione snuck a peak at her blonde friend, who was sipping her tea and staring off into space. She often wondered what Luna was thinking about when she looked like that, but Hermione figured it was probably something related to nargles or whatever crackpot theory she was entertaining that month. But then Luna caught her staring and smiled at her, sending a wave of guilt crashing over Hermione for thinking something so uncharitable about one of her only remaining friends.

She was about to start spiralling and wondering if her cynicism and jaded personality had led to the decline in her friend count, but she was spared from dwelling on it further by the increasingly loud chatter of the women around her.

“What about the Maldives?” Fleur offered.

“Potter might be rich, but I don’t think he would pay for all of us to have a weekend getaway to the Maldives,” Angelina countered.

“I might have to agree with Angelina, even if I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea,” Ginny said.

“Ooh, have you decided where you’re going for your honeymoon yet?” Audrey asked.

“No, we haven’t.”

“You should go to the Canary Islands. That’s where Perce and I went and we had the most wonderful time. You remember the slideshow, don’t you?”

Ginny made a face but was interrupted by Lavender, “I think we’re getting a little off-topic, ladies.” Then Lavender turned her piercing blue eyes onto Hermione. “Hermione, you haven’t offered any ideas yet. What would you like to do?”

Hermione did not expect anyone to take her suggestion seriously and as such, she answered as to how she herself might like to spend a weekend. By herself, of course. “What about renting a cottage by the water? Nothing to do, no schedules, just sitting around.”

Lavender forced a smile. Obviously she would not like Hermione’s idea when everyone was suggesting going out to bars or strip clubs or doing painting lessons while wine tasting. Although whatever that was, only Audrey knew.

“I like that idea,” Luna said, piping up from beside Hermione on the couch. Hermione figured that Luna, as Hermione’s friend, would be the only one to express a desire to go with that plan. But Hermione was wrong.

“That sounds very relaxing. I agree with Hermione,” Fleur said. Hermione realized she should have expected that. As a pregnant woman, she could not partake in most forms of debauchery. Though Hermione also noticed that she did not offer Shell Cottage for this purpose. That was probably for the best.

“Yes, and we can bring the necessary supplies and paint by the water,” Audrey offered. “That’s much better than a stuffy classroom. Alright, you’ve convinced me.”

“Fresh air _is_ always nice,” Angelina said. Hermione found this endlessly amusing because, as a Quidditch player, fresh air must be extremely hard for her to come by.

Hermione looked up to see Lavender crossing her arms and trying--and failing--to hide a scowl. At this point she must have realized she had a mutinous group of bridesmaids on her hands.

“I mean, whatever Ginny wants,” Hermione said sweetly, but with a wolfish grin. She enjoyed knocking Lavender off-kilter, but she also enjoyed looking like the bigger woman.

“Sure,” Ginny said. “I just want to party. Doesn’t matter where we do it.”

“Cottage by the water it is,” Lavender said through tight lips and clenched teeth.

Hermione looked around the room once more. Perhaps she was not so hated as she had previously feared.


End file.
